


House of the Silent

by TSerpillum



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Coping, Grief/Mourning, Loneliness, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TSerpillum/pseuds/TSerpillum
Summary: All of them had a life before Shiganshina and another one after it.Calling the events back into life by talking about them in private was an unwritten taboo no one dared to cross; the horrors of the battle needed to be put off as best as possible, repressed into oblivion as if they never happened to any of them. Still there were nights when the calm of the surface got disturbed from far underneath by a force ready to drive them past their strength, dignity and humility.On nights like these, Jean simply wished to run away from his memories, the faces of long lost comrades and the chill of death.





	House of the Silent

**Author's Note:**

> Music for reading: Charon - House of the Silent

All of them had a life before Shiganshina and another one after it.

Calling the events back into life by talking about them in private was an unwritten taboo no one dared to cross; the horrors of the battle needed to be put off as best as possible, repressed into oblivion as if they never happened to any of them. Still there were nights when the calm of the surface got disturbed from far underneath by a force ready to drive them past their strength, dignity and humility.

On nights like these, Jean simply wished to run away from his memories, the faces of long lost comrades and the chill of death. 

They all had their weaknesses which showed every now and then when the silence was deafening and loneliness the only company. It’s not like Eren tried to hide the empty bottles under his bed anymore. Connie’s lips remained for so long in a straight line as his eyes wandered over the sight from his window, making Jean believe he imagined his beloved Ragako, with children playing joyfully like he once did with his siblings. Hell, even Sasha stopped emptying her plate, chewing on her loaf of bread without any signs of appetite.

And then there was him, so weak and pitiful to buy warmth and comfort of another human.

Still he wondered if it was even worth this feeling of shame while returning to the shallow building of the Survey Corps headquarters, ancient stones with a handful of life in them.

Soon it will be flooded with new faces, ideas and vigour, as the Commander announced.

Life went on, they did too, and all should eventually turn out alright.

Jean hurried to the bathhouse in need to scrub his skin clean of the touches and kisses he paid for, craving the cold water to get his thoughts in order before anyone spotted him like this.

Captain Levi understood right away where he had been and what he was up to. The next day he shoved a small package in his hand with the words: “Don’t get yourself ill, Jean.”

At least he chose a moment when the others were not around, unusually tactful of this rock of a man; however Jean had difficulties looking him in the eyes for a week afterwards.

Levi had changed, Hanji, their Commander, had too. 

But if he had to be honest, they did so as well.

Once, breaking the long moments of starring into the darkness, Connie mumbled about them being in a house of the silent. Somewhat strange, wasn’t it, considering their former residents’ last sounds - desperate screams from all of their might in the face of the flying boulders.

Searching for sounds other than bought moans and words of gratification, Jean dried himself up, cursing when spotting a hickey, dressed swiftly and went to the kitchen in hopes to find Armin there. He developed a habit of making tea for Hanji and himself in the long nights they spent in chewing over the revelations of Grisha Jaeger’s journals. 

For fucks sake, only problems with the Jaegers.

The unlit space of the communal kitchen was

Disappointment flood over him as he stood in the doorframe of the unlit space. 

Armin wasn’t there, he wouldn’t talk about what he saw in Bertholdt’s memories or the conclusion he came to. 

It will be another night of deafening silence, of absence of life, of the bitter realisation of irreversible loss.

Jean turned to leave with a sigh of resignation when a barely audible gasp caught his attention. Frozen in place, he breathed to calm his heart that skipped a beat, reminding himself of currently being on safe ground. It was a friend that was there in the far corner of the kitchen, bathing in shadows, hiding not only from the world but from themself as well.

The huddled up figure he was easy to recognise right away by their right hand resting against their temple.

_Mikasa_.

Unable to see her eyes in the darkness, he waited for her to react to him, to see if he truly disturbed her in her solitude. However all she did was slowly massage her temple, barely audible whines leaving her closed mouth, refusing to acknowledge the inner turmoil she had to endure.

It was right, Mikasa had a life even before the fall of Shiganshina, one that was taken away from her, and another one forced onto her after she returned to her crushed home, finding nothing but remnants of a horror still living in her mind, and another sense of reality she had to come to terms with.

The questions were vivid in his mind; they have been for years by now, but now more than ever before, fuelled by curiosity and worry. Yet unable to form them properly, he left them unspoken, leaving an open gap between them without a bridge to cross. He simply didn’t know how to, and surely not now when she suffered the frequent headaches, so silently and stoic, as if she didn’t want to belittle the agony their fallen comrades had to suffer.

As much as he couldn’t stand the silence, he had no courage to break it and finally build the bridge.

Defeated, Jean slid down the doorframe inclining his ears not to miss any of the small sounds of the shifting of Mikasa’s blanket, her deep exhales and hisses through clenched teeth when the pain increased, bringing him an odd sort of relief.

He was there, he was near; in the house of the silent they were not alone.

Still the silence infected him, so he wordlessly sat there until the moon went for its shelter, leaving him in wonder to listen to the quiet breathing of Shiganshina’s survivor finally fallen asleep.


End file.
